Authors: R. K. Lilley
He paused watching, his smile fading just a touch.
“Next up are Tristan and Danika.
It hurts my heart to see those two around each other.”
I knew just what he meant.
There was still such a feeling of unresolved issues when the two of them got together.
Danika hadn’t been thrilled with the pairing, but she’d been a good sport about it.
Always, though, she treated Tristan with cool civility.
“Sven Jr. and Adele are up.
They look very model-y.”
“Is that a real word?” I asked playfully.
“Sure.
Last up are Jackie and Camden,” he continued.
“He just gave her a roguish smile, and she took his arm without sparing him a glance.
They make a strange pairing.”
I had to agree.
Lana’s brother, Camden, was the opposite of Jackie in just about every way I could think of.
He was tall and muscular, with wavy golden hair like his sister, and those same startling violet eyes.
He dwarfed the tiny figure of Jackie, and was as playful as she was serious.
Stephan stepped back from the open doorway when the last couple had departed, moving quickly to adjust my skirt, smoothing out my short lace train.
The dress had turned out exquisitely.
It was pale cream, with intricate gold-threaded lace, and lush detailing along every inch.
It was sleeveless, with a high-collared neckline of sheerest lace, so sheer that my locked-on choker was clearly visible underneath.
Jackie’d had the enterprising idea of cutting a hole out for the hoop in the collar, and it had worked perfectly.
My choker looked like part of the dress.
Underneath I wore a plain white, strapless sheath that came to just above my knees.
The lace gown overlaying that was longer, the hem touching the floor, the train trailing lightly behind me.
I’d had to be talked into a train, and we’d finally compromised on one that no one would have to carry for me.
He handed me my large bouquet.
It was a lovely mix of violet lilies, purple roses, and tidy little white calla lilies.
The same flowers had been interwoven into a wreath on my head, showcasing my long hair, which had been painstakingly curled into ringlets that hung down my back.
He touched my cheek lightly, a world of joy in his twinkling blue eyes, before offering me his arm.
We began our slow-paced walk down the flower-lined aisle, the sun at our backs, our movements synched from years of perfect accord.
James was a jealous man, the most possessive man I’d ever met.
I doubted that there was a thing about me that he didn’t consider
his
.
But he had never made me choose, never made me question or compromise one thing about my relationship with Stephan.
He had only accepted, as much as that acceptance must have gone against all of his natural inclinations.
I thought that was perhaps the surest sign of his love for me
—
that he would so obviously put my needs before his own.
His love was such a beautiful thing, always so perfectly suited to my own needs, and so unselfish in its way.
He’d made me a believer.
We’d been together for nearly a year now, and I was well and truly convinced that we really were made for each other.
Life wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty close.
I had thought that looking at Stephan would make me lose it today, but as we drew closer, I realized that the look in Mr. Beautiful’s eyes would be my real undoing.
He didn’t bother to hide from our guests those tender eyes that he had just for me.
No one there could doubt that he was crazy about me.
I didn’t know how I’d ever doubted it myself.
Though I
had
seen the world with different eyes back then.
How could I have known that I was being swept into my very own fairytale?
I’d never believed in such things.
Stephan handed me to James when we got into reach.
James gave me his softest smile, one hand rising to brush the one lone tear that had managed to make its way silently down my cheek.
Abruptly, he pulled me close and kissed me.
It lasted long enough, and held enough passion, to draw loud cheers and guffaws from the crowd, and one loudly cleared throat from the minister.
I was breathless as he pulled back with a wicked smile.
“It was that or drag you into the nearest room.
I couldn’t have you wearing that kissable look for the entire ceremony and not address it,” he murmured to me, shameless as ever.
I was still recovering as the minister began to speak.
I let the official words wash over me, my eyes steady, if a little moist, on my love’s.
“We are gathered here today to take part in the most time-honored celebration of the human family, uniting this man and woman in marriage,” the minister began.
I listened to each word of the ceremony carefully, trying to take it all in, but my eyes didn’t waver from his.
We recited our vows, and my voice was as steady as I could make it for my own part.
We had opted for short, traditional ones, because I had a strong aversion to public speaking.
Tears ran silently down my cheeks for a lot of it, but James held it together for the most part.
That is, right until the end, when the minister was reciting a small part that James had wanted to add.
The minister read, quoting the Benediction of the Apaches.
“Now you will feel no rain,
For each of you will be shelter to the other.
Now you will feel no cold,
For each of you will be warmth to the other.
Now there is no more loneliness for you.”
His gaze never wavered from mine, even as they filled with tears, the tears swiftly overflowing, running down his cheeks before the minister had finished the line.
I reached up and softly wiped them away with my hands.
It was only fair.
He had been quietly drying my tears through the entire ceremony.
“For each of you will be companion to the other.
Now you are two bodies,
But there is only one life before you.”
There were a few more lines in that lovely addition to the vows, but I barely heard them as I watched my bridegroom’s trembling lips form the words, “I love you,” in a hushed whisper.
Vaguely, I heard the famous line about kissing the bride, but I hadn’t even registered the words before James was pulling me against him in a soft, sweet kiss.
It was a kiss full of finesse, and held a promise of forever.
My own lips answered that promise eagerly.
I gasped and let out an embarrassed little screech as he suddenly lifted me high in the air.
He laughed, spinning me.
My hands gripped his shoulders as his eyes laughed into mine.
“We did it, Love,” he told me softly, his voice filled with quiet wonder.
“You’re mine, forever, Mrs. Cavendish.”
I shook my head at him as he lowered me slowly back to the ground.
His joy was infectious, and I was quickly laughing with him.
“You’re insane.
I’ve been yours all along, Mr. Cavendish.”
5 YEARS LATER
I awoke to the strangest sensation in my lower regions, which had grown almost numb over the past few weeks.
I patted the hand that was wrapped around my middle.
“James,” I gasped.
I felt him tense against me, instantly awake.
“Is it time, Bianca?”
I bit my lip, mortified.
“I don’t know.
Either my water just broke or I wet myself.”
The bastard laughed, and I elbowed him hard.
He was up and at my side of the bed, grinning like a loon, between one second and the next.
He studied my wet legs and I squeezed my eyes shut tight, as embarrassed as I’d ever been in my life.
“Did my water break?” I asked him.
He continued to study me, his brow furrowed.
“I don’t know how to tell.
You can’t tell?”
I shrugged, miserable.
“It’s all just numb at the moment.”
I swallowed, hating to ask.
“Will you smell it?”
He wasn’t offended.
He never was.
He was the most dutiful of husbands for a first time pregnant mess of a woman.
I couldn’t look at him as he tentatively checked.
“No scent.
I think we’re having our baby, Love.”
We both knew what to do, and James sprang into action, but I couldn’t seem to move at first, overwhelmed at the thought that the next time we came back here, we would be bringing a baby home with us.
I heard James talking on his phone in the closet.
“Stephan.
It’s time.
You have five minutes to meet us at the car, or else you’ll have to meet us at the hospital.”
He paused.
“Very sure.
Her water broke.
We all get to meet our baby today.”
He was back at my side a few moments later, already dressed.
I wasn’t much help as he pulled off my nightgown, and slipped a comfortable frock over my head.
“Can you stand?” he asked gently.
I nodded, and stood slowly, feeling ungainly.
James helped me, his strong arms keeping me steady until I could stand on my own.
He knelt at my feet, using a wet cloth to clean me, and changing my underwear without a word.
He wrapped an arm around my waist, the other firmly holding my arm, as he led me down the stairs, and to the garage.
Clark and Blake were waiting for us beside a large black SUV.
We had packed for the hospital months ago, courtesy of Control Freak Cavendish, so I was relieved not to have to worry about it just then.
James made sure I was comfortably ensconced and securely buckled in before he got in himself.
My huge belly had made everything difficult lately, and I’d never appreciated his unending solicitude more than I had during the trials of pregnancy.
Clark backed the car out, getting just outside of the colossal garage before stopping, a huge grin on his face as he glanced back at us.
“The guys made it,” he told us.
I glanced behind the car, seeing our two favorite neighbors booking it across the property, Stephan leaving Javier in the dust on his way to our car.
James and I shared a happy smile.
Seconds later Stephan was getting into the car, breathless and shooting me concerned looks.
He climbed into the row of seats behind us, moving directly behind me so he could kiss the top of my head before he sat.
“How are you?
How’s our baby?” he asked me, looking at James.
James couldn’t stop grinning.
“Our baby is ready to meet us today.”
I rubbed my belly, trying not to stress out about the ordeal to come.
James saw my action, and bent down to kiss my belly, as he had countless times over the last eight and a half months.
I stroked a hand over his silky hair.
Javier climbed into the car as James was still paying homage to my big belly.
He smiled at the sight.
“We won’t be seeing that quite so often after today,” he said.
I patted James on the head.
“I’ll miss it,” I said softly.
He shifted so he could meet my eyes, his cheek still pressed softly to my belly.
“We can do this as many times as you want, Mrs. Cavendish.”
We were ten minutes from the hospital, and it was a talkative car ride, so the drive went by in a flash, as did my admission into the hospital, expedited by my ungodly rich husband.
They had me in a bed in what I figured had to be a record.
Dr. Lisa practically met us there, looking as though she hadn’t been dragged out of bed, though I knew that she had.
She smiled at me reassuringly.
“You’re going to be a mother today,” she told me, after a short examination.
It was a daunting thought.
Several harrowing hours later, more so for James than for me, I thought, and a little bundle of joy was placed in my arms.
I had been so sure that a child would open up old wounds
—
just rip apart the things inside of me that had never quite healed.
Even after I’d been sure that I did want children, and even during the pregnancy, when I’d felt those first profound stirrings of the perfect love of a mother, I’d felt that doubt.
There was no way that I could have known that seeing our son’s perfect face would have the opposite effect.
It hadn’t ripped me open.
It didn’t aggravate those wounds.
Like my love for James, it only healed me.
As James always said he had done with me, I fell in love with Duncan Stephan Cavendish at first sight.